Because I could not stop for Death –
He kindly stopped for me –
The Carriage held but just Ourselves –
And Immortality.
We slowly drove – He knew no haste
And I had put away
My labor and my leisure too,
For His Civility –
We passed the School, where Children strove
At Recess – in the Ring –
We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain –
We passed the Setting Sun –
Or rather – He passed us –
The Dews drew quivering and chill –
For only Gossamer, my Gown –
My Tippet – only Tulle –
We paused before a House that seemed
A Swelling of the Ground –
The Roof was scarcely visible –
The Cornice – in the Ground –
Since then – 'tis Centuries – and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses' Heads
Were toward Eternity –
Emily Dickinson

I just came back from the memorial service of a dear f/Friend (as in Quaker), Lillian Willoughby who was 94 years old. The Meeting House in Haddonfield, NJ was filled with f/Friends of this dear woman. Her family, husband, George who is also 94 and their 4 children and family were there. We shared stories about how Lillian touched our lives. The Meeting went almost an hour over the usual hour long time for Worship. We laughed and we cried.I was honored to know Lillian for almost 40 years.Reading this wonderful poem was very timely. Thank you, Ahavia